


Sixteen Candles

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:57:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Dirk and Jane are out, Jake and Roxy raid Jane's kitchen for liquor - and get a little frisky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sixteen Candles

“Oh my God, Jake, that doesn't fucking get you drunk!”

Jake tossed a glance over his shoulder, rolling his eyes at Roxy. “Yes, it does! I read it online!”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“I don't remember.”

“Was it, like, shitty-ass-drinks-for-lightweights dot com?”

He giggled – giggled! God, how far gone was he? - and slammed the cabinet's doors shut.

“This is entirely your fault.” He paused, clumsily stabbing a finger in her direction. “You didn't bring nearly enough liquor for the four of us.”

“The two of us, you mean.” She tossed back her head, curls falling in her eyes as she laughed. “God, Janey kills me. Like, I love her to death, but could she be more of a fuckin' prude?”

“She could be Dirk.”

“Shit!” They both doubled over the counter, stomachs spasming. Roxy's laughter was loud, shrill, and when she snorted – snorted, Jesus Christ – Jake only laughed harder.

“Shut up, I can't help it,” she whined, punching him lightly on the shoulder. He fell into her, drew in a sharp breath, and forced out a snort of his own.

“Oh, fuck you, Jake.”

“Look at me, I'm Roxy Lalonde.” He snorted again. “I'm such a lady.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I get it. I'm the grossest, slobbiest hot mess ever to get white-girl-wasted. The night is still young. Booze, Jake. Focus.”

“I am focusing. Help me find the vanilla extract.”

“You cannot get drunk off of that.”

“I can sure as hell try.”

He threw open the doors to another cabinet, squinting to read the labels.

“Well, we've found the extract cupboard.”

“Who even has an extract cupboard? And, like, a sprinkles cupboard? And one for icing? It's like, Jesus, Jane, takin' food porn to a whole new level.”

Jake clapped a hand over his mouth, barely stifling his laughter. Everything coming out of her mouth was funny.

“All right, what are we workin' with here?” She sidled up beside him, scooting him aside with her hip. “Almond extract, apple, apricot...”

Jake pushed his glasses up his nose, scanning the rows of bottles. “Looks like it's alphabetical.”

Roxy rolled her eyes, sending Jake a sidelong smirk. “You fucking dork.”

She reached for the bottle – Betty Crocker Vanilla Bean, conveniently tucked between Betty Crocker Tangerine and Betty Crocker Walnut – eyed the label with disinterest, and handed it to him.

“You were right. 40% alcohol. That shit's, like, as strong as whiskey.”

With a devilish grin, Jake twisted the cap.

“You're not seriously going to...” He cut her off with a loud “Bottoms up!” and tilted the bottle, pouring a long swig of extract into his open mouth.

Roxy shrieked, clapping both hands over her mouth. “Jake, that's sick. That's so gross... ew!”

She could see his cheeks bulging, and a little bit of liquid pooling at the corner of his lips.

“Jake! Sink! Sink!”

His arms flailing wildly, he bent over and spat everything left in his mouth all over Jane's tiled floor. It ran down his chin, dribbling onto his t-shirt. Roxy stood, silent, watching in something between horror and second-hand embarrassment as he pulled his shirt away from his chest and glanced down at it, forlorn.

“Oops.”

“Dude,” sighed Roxy, leaning onto the counter. “You don't shotgun anything with 40-fucking-percent. You just don't. Especially if it's ass-nasty vanilla extract.”

“I didn't think that far ahead.”

“I know you didn't.” She rubbed her temples, glancing around the kitchen for a towel, a washcloth, something. Her eyes fell on Jake, standing in front of her, fanning the growing puddle of brown on his white t-shirt.

“Jake. Shirt. Now.”

He jerked his head up, eyes wide as saucers behind his glasses. “Huh?”

“I said take it off.”

“Why?”

She shook her head, side to side, and stepped forward. Her fingers reached for the hem, tugged insistently.

“You see that huge puddle on the floor?”

He nodded.

“We need to clean that shit up. Your shirt's already dirty.”

“But...”

She pulled at his t-shirt, and Jake sighed, lifting his arms up. She paused when the fabric bunched at his neck, and he took a second to carefully remove his glasses and place them delicately on Jane's counter.

“Good boy.”

“Thank you.”

He wandered over to the fridge, and she crouched on the tile, mopping up extract as best as she could with Jake's thin shirt. Eying the floor, then the shirt – ruined now, for sure – she shrugged. Good enough. She stood, and tossed the shirt onto the counter next to his glasses. Turning, she saw Jake peering intently into the fridge, illuminated in the harsh light.

“Whatcha looking for?”

He hesitated a little, and then, quietly, “Beer.”

Roxy slung her arms around his shoulders, letting her head rest against the small of his neck. “You know, Jane and her dad, they're like, total prudes. That vanilla extract was probably your best bet.”

Jake wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. My first real dash at getting properly white-girl-wasted, ruined.”

“Aw, poor baby.” She turned to him, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “I think you'll live.”

Jake bit his lip a little. He turned, his skin flushing just the slightest bit, and kissed Roxy's cheek. She giggled, gave him a slight squeeze, and then slid off of him, making her way back to the counter where Jake's shirt sat in a crumpled ball.

“Where are you going?” His voice rose, and she cast a glance back over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Rinsing out your filthy-as-fuck shirt,” she said. “Maybe by the time Jane gets back this'll be dry enough for you to wear. I mean, not that I don't love the sight of you without it on.”

He was nearly scarlet now, and she laughed, crossing the floor to the sink. She twisted the taps, turning the shirt inside out, and used her hands to direct the cool water to fall in pools in and around the stain. She was so absorbed – and tired, maybe, and still a little tipsy – that she didn't notice Jake behind her until his arms were wrapped around her waist and his hot breath was tickling her ear.

“Someone's a touchy-feely drunk.”

“You're one to talk.”

“Mm, not really. You're just...” She paused, racking her mind for an appropriate word. “You're cuddly.”

“I'm cuddly?”

She affected an accent, sticking her nose up in the air. “Yes, quite.”

He hummed contentedly in her ear, and she felt one of his hands slide away from her waist, and down... down... She squeaked, quickly moving to turn off the taps. Jake's other hand moved to the side of her face, and his fingers combed gently through her thick, curly hair.

“Oh, oh my God.”

“Shhh.”

She could feel his hand on her thigh, sliding along the pleats of her skirt, and then his fingers, lifting the fabric inch by inch. When they collided with the curve of her thigh, just dancing along the elastic of her panties, she bit her lip to keep from whimpering. He hesitated, his hand cupping her through the fabric.

“Do you want me to...”

“Yes.”

She felt his lips widen into a smile against her cheek, and he chuckled into her ear. His fingers slid up, up, and along the thin elastic that hung low on her hips. In an instant, his hand had slid south, and his finger was tracing her slit, up and down, slowly, steadily. She brought her hand to her lips, breathing heavily against her fingers. After a few moments, his finger slipped past the folds of her vulva, and his thumb moved to trace slow, small circles around her clitoris. She bit down on her own thumb, nearly panting, as he drew his finger slowly in and out. He added another, and another, until she couldn't keep herself from mumbling frenzied variations on _ohmigod_ and _fuck_ into her sweaty palm.

He heard her, paused, and pushed his thumb against her clitoris. “You be quiet, now.”

She nodded, silent, and he continued. She could feel warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach, and as much as she tried to remain silent, her heart in her chest filled her ears, and quickened.

He stopped, suddenly, and she moaned and his fingers slid out of her vulva.

“ _Ja-ake_ ,” she whined, grinding her hips insistently against his. She turned, gasped, saw him hungrily sucking on his forefingers, eyes screwed shut.

“You're so wet.”

She giggled a little under her breath. “Yeah, no shit,” she nodded. “Do I taste good?”

He smiled, humming contentedly, and nodded.

He brought his hand to her lips, and she closed her eyes as his thumb inched closer to her tongue. She licked, tasted salt, and nearly went weak in the knees. She turned away from the sink, squeezed his spare hand in hers, and lay her forehead against his. Slowly, hesitantly, he brought his lips against hers. She ran her fingers up and down his naked chest, sneaking frenzied, delirious breaths between kisses.

“Fuck, Roxy, I want you so bad.”

“How bad?”

He pulled back, grinning at her. “Go sit on the island.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Just trust me.”

Roxy stepped back, hoisting herself onto the island, and she perched on the edge. The marble countertop felt cold against her thighs.

“All right,” she said, and leaned back. She moved to set her hand down for support and came up against something soft, squishy, and...

“Shit, Jane's cake.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Roxy pulled her hand out of the cake, licking away frosting. “A giant handprint in her huge-ass sheet cake. Like, the one that she spent literally all day making. She's gonna fucking kill me.”

“Just tell her it was me. I'm a sloppy drunk.”

He moved up to her, and as she spread her legs, he moved between them, planting his hands on her hips to steady her. They kissed again, and when he pulled away, he brought her hand to his mouth and started lapping up frosting. His other hand was already working her panties down her legs; when she raised her ass to allow him to slip them off, she accidentally staggered backward and planted her hand in Jane's cake.

But when his head was finally between her legs, she couldn't control herself. Both hands fisted in the cake, and she squeezed the spongy dough and icing between her fingers, biting her lip to keep from crying out. He was planting little kisses all over the insides of her thighs, along her slit, and when his tongue swirled around her clitoris, she let out a sharp, shrill scream.

If anything, that encouraged him more. His tongue slid past the folds of her vulva, lapping hungrily along her slit. She felt her stomach buckle, searing heat building and building under Jake's mouth.

“Jake... fuck...” The heat was unbearable. Without bothering to lick the icing off of her fingers, she crossed her arms in front of her body and brought her t-shirt up and over her head. She fumbled with the buckle of her bra; her hands, still coated in dough and icing, were too slippery for the task. Squirming, she pushed the cups of her bra up and over her breasts. In an instant, her hands were on her sore, stiff nipples, pinching them, rolling them between her fingers. She sighed with relief – until she noticed Jake pulling back, licking his lips, and staring up at her.

“I don't remember giving you permission to stop,” she whispered. Locking her knees around his shoulders, she pulled him closer. One hand, still smeared with the remnants of Jane's cake, tangled itself in Jake's thatchy hair, and she tugged insistently until he was kissing her along her slit in a slippery, frenzied rush.

“That's better.”

When his lips closed around her clitoris and he blew, she saw stars. Her entire body felt like it was glowing, and the heat was building, burning in a way that she was oh, so familiar with, but felt different now, with him.

“Jake, I'm gonna...” And then she yelped, gripping his thick hair with both hands, cursing and _don'tstopJakedon'tstop_ as her muscles spasmed, waves rising and crashing.

Sucking in deep breaths, she brought a hand to her forehead, combing her bangs back and out of her eyes. Jake was already rising up, one hand unbuckling his shorts. His lips were shiny, glistening with – with her, she realized, and the thought sent shivers through her entire body.

She leaned forward, kissing him on the mouth, and his lips parted and his tongue swirled around hers. Grinning, Roxy pulled back.

“I do taste pretty good.”

“I'll say.” He smiled up at her, then lowered his face to her chest. His tongue darted out, licking the remnants of frosting from Roxy's nipples. She moaned, running her hands lightly up and down the sides of his neck. He pulled back, looking into her eyes imploringly.

“Do you want to, like...”

It came out in a soft, small gasp. “Yes.”

“Are you quite sure? Do you have any condoms?”

Roxy thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, but...”

“We can't very well – you know, do it unless we have a...”

“Jake, seriously-”

“Do you think Jane has any tucked away somewhere?”

Roxy burst out laughing. “She's been wearing a fucking purity ring since middle school, Jake. Get real.”

His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked worried. “So, what are we...”

“Jake, I'm on the pill. Calm down. Have you ever done this before?”

He blushed, then a timid, “No.”

“Oh. Well, like, I couldn't tell or anything.”

He beamed, and Roxy rolled her head back, laughing.

“You fucking dork.”

“So... that's a yes, then?

“Jane's coming home, like, any second. You know that, right? She left to drop off Dirk, like, twenty minutes ago.”

Jake thought for a moment, shrugged, and then moved in closer to the countertop. He snaked one arm around Roxy's shoulders, leaning in to give her a breathy kiss.

“Scoot back,” he whispered, and she did, feeling the small of her back brush against Jane's cake. Beaming mischievously, Jake reached out and lightly shoved Roxy backward. She screamed, toppling onto her back. Cake oozed all around her body, and when she lifted her head, she felt icing and dough cling to her hair.

“Oh my fucking God, Jake.” He was hoisting himself onto the island, crawling atop her. His hands dug into the cake around her, and he lowered himself, kissing her again on the mouth.

“Bollocks,” he chuckled. “I don't know how we're going to begin explaining this one.”

Roxy reached down and with one sticky hand began to slide her fingers up and down the length of Jake's penis. “I'm telling her you got wasted on vanilla extract and did a faceplant.”

He nodded. “That could work.”

Roxy brought one hand to her mouth, giggling. “You're so hard right now.”

“I know.”

He lay against her, his knees burying themselves in the cake beside her hips, and with a cautious glance - “Ready?” - and her nod, he leaned back, thrusting slowly into her. She gasped at the impact, seeing stars again, and wiggled her hips, trying desperately to accommodate him. He drew in another deep breath, then pushed forward again. He kept up this cautious rhythm for a few moments, going deeper, harder, with every push. She'd deteriorated again to _ohfuckJakedon'tstopJesusChristyoufeelsogood_ and he was doing the same, mumbling her name, tilting his face to the ceiling as he bucked his hips slowly in, and out.

Finally, she choked out a “...harder” and he was eager to oblige, gripping her knees, sliding them apart, and pushing in, out, in, out, faster and faster. It had only been a few minutes, but they'd been at this for much longer, and Jake was feeling his entire stomach tighten, and burn.

When he came, he screamed, high and almost girlish, and Roxy cheered him on, bucking her hips against his and chanting, swearing, at the top of her lungs. She lifted herself up to kiss him on the lips, and he moved against her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, the small of her back, to kiss her, and kiss her, eyes closed, reverential.

Suddenly, in the dark, red caves of his eyelids, he saw white. He opened his eyes, squinting, and saw a figure standing in the doorway. He froze, swallowed hard. Roxy, confused, glanced up at him, then over her shoulder.

“Oh,” she called cheerily. “Hey, Jane!”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift for my lovely friend Madeleine (joshualyman on Tumblr). Hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
